


So Much More

by Helthehatter



Category: Beauty and the Beast (2017)
Genre: Disney, F/M, One Shot, beauty and the beast 2017, just something for a little fun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-03-30
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:15:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,056
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9617471
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Helthehatter/pseuds/Helthehatter
Summary: A series of one-shots for the 2017 remake of Beauty and the Beast.





	1. Chapter 1

Never, not once in his life, had he ever needed to impress someone. He had never had the desire to either.

His life had been a royal one, he had always felt entitled that everyone should impress him. He was the most important of this castle and he deserved to be treated like the royalty he was. So he had always demanded his servants and guests to impress him and they, in his eyes, had always failed.

That had had played a part in his downfall, his curse.

But his life of bitterness and isolation had ended when a beautiful girl in a shabby blue dress offered herself as his prisoner. He wondered what had made him go after her when she ran from the castle. Because of the wolves that stalked the forest? Because time was running out and he needed the spell broken? Or because he had wanted to apologize for frightening her? Lumiere and his other servants would insist it was the third option.

But either way their relationship had improved drastically after he saved her and she had saved him. And now he was consumed by this unwavering urge to impress her.

He could tell she was awed by the castle, but who wouldn’t be? Even he sometimes took a step back to admire it’s sheer size and grandeur. Unlike him it was still beautiful even while cursed.

No he needed something that truly interested her. He asked the staff for help:

“A lady always enjoys fine jewels,” Lumiere had smirked.

“There is always the classic box of chocolates,” Cogsworth pointed out, “Flowers…promises you don’t intend to keep.”

“A quiet walk around the gardens would be lovely,” Mrs. Potts offered.

But he found his answer one day while passing her bedroom. Through the closed door she could hear her speaking to someone.

“It was one of my favorite books.”

It wasn’t her words that stopped him as much as the way she said it. An open and warm affection came from her lips that made his insides twist with jealously. Which was ludicrous because she was talking about books!

“It took place far, far away from here,” she continued in a voice that was like music. “It had daring sword fights…and even a prince in disguise.”

“Why was he in disguise?” a new voice questioned, it was Chip.

“Well…” He walked away before he could hear her explanation, the wheels in his head turning. He now knew exactly what he needed to impress her and it almost made him want to skip. He wondered if it would be considered selfish to hope she would talk to him in that affectionate tone he decided to dub her book-voice.

After all it wouldn’t hurt.

.

He had grabbed her hand without truly thinking, his brain already steps away to the room he wanted to show her. But the moment his hand wrapped around hers he stilled, heart sky-rocketing with panic. He waited for her to scream or flinch, to pull away with disgust.

But she only smiled at him with polite confusion, “Are you taking me somewhere or…?”

“I-I am,” he stammered, trying to hide his surprise. “There’s something I wanted to show you.”

He led her down the hall and as they walked in silence a part of his brain couldn’t help but note how warm and smooth her hand was. It was like her skin was made of silk.

“What is it you wanted to show me?” she asked when they stopped before a large set of doors.

“It’s a surprise,” he breathed, trying to hide his excitement.

She giggled softly, the sound like bells that made his heart flutter like a bird. “Should I close my eyes then?”

He nodded and while her smile stayed in place her brows furrowed in confusion. But she obeyed, sliding her eyes shut. With a pinch of reluctance he released her hand to open the doors.

He placed slightly shaking and hesitate hands on her slim waist and led her into the middle of the room.

“Can I open my eyes now?” she asked when his hands fell away from her hips.

“Yes,” he replied, staying close to her side, his eyes on her face.

Her eyes opened slowly and he watched her lips form an o in surprise as her brown eyes took it all in, turning in a slow circle and gazing at the books that covered every inch of wall. “I’ve never seen so many books…”

“Do you like it it?” he asked hesitantly.

She turned to him, her face split with a smile, “I love it!”

His chest swelled with pride as she appraised him with a newfound interest. “Have you read every one of these books?”

“No,” he snorted dryly with a droll expression. “Some of them are in Greek.”

She chuckled, and there was something riveting about making her laugh.

Her eyes trailed back over the books, “It really is beautiful.”

His eyes stayed on her, at her soft as silk skin, brunette hair that glowed in sunlight, brown eyes shining with fascination. And that smile that made his heart do somersaults. “Yes, you are,” he breathed.

“I beg your pardon?” she hadn’t made out his words.

“Nothing-nothing,” he took a few steps back, flustered. He felt like a child finding his first lov-

He cleared his throat, “I said nothing.”

She frowned slightly but didn’t press him, instead taking the steps to bring them face to face. “Do you have any favorites?”

“Favorites?” he echoed, distracted by the golden glow the sun set to her hair.

“Favorite books,” she clarified.

“Ah…” he racked his brain for a moment, “Adventures. The Three Musketeers…Count of Monte Crisco…things like that.”

“I haven’t read those,” she admitted. “The town’s library only had so many books.”

“Well now you can,” he tried for a smile and she returned it. “This way.” He lead her across the room, resisting the urge to take her hand again.

They stopped before a large shelf where rows of adventurous tales sat, waiting to be open and pull the reader into a journey of danger and excitement. She trailed a slim finger across the leather spines, eyes roving over the titles. As she did that he walked to a table, picking up a book he had started a few days ago.

A few moments later she rejoined his side, peeking over his shoulder. “What are you reading?”

“Nothing,” he tried to dodge, closing the book.

She lowered her head to read the spine, “Guinevere and Lancelot?”

He was glad his fur could hide a blush. “King Arthur and the Round Table,” he corrected.

Her smirk was teasing, “Still a romance.”

“Hm, felt like a change,” he admitted, moving to place the book back on the table. But her hand came to rest on his, stopping him and nearly making him jump out of his skin.

“Could I read it?” she asked.

“Oh, of course,” he gave her the book.

She smiled at the bound paper and once again he felt a ridiculous sense of jealously. Oh how he wanted her to look at him like that, like he was a fascinating and priceless treasure. But he wasn’t fascinating or priceless. And he would never be considered a treasure, especially not by someone like her.

She turned around to find a comfortable place to read. The word came out of his mouth before he could could stop it: “Belle.”

He swallowed when she turned and met his eye. “Could we-that is…” his tongue tied and he dwindled off into silence.

She gave him an understanding look that made his heart squeeze, “Would you like to read it together?”

He nodded earnestly, “I would…thank you.”


	2. This Pretty Little Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beast reminiscences of his first guest.

_“She was the fairest of them all_

_and she could dance and sing,_

_But unlike the Beast whose love shined the best,_

_she loved herself never cared for the rest.”_

-Peppina, _La Belle Et La Bete_

 

Her name had been Yvonne, and she had been different.

At least…that’s what he had always assumed, had always told himself.

Her hair had been like silky spun gold that flowed over her narrow shoulders, milky white skin and green eyes that was greener than the forests beyond his cursed winter. He had known her in his childhood, the daughter of one of his father’s friends, they were always paired together to play while the adults conversed.

He hadn’t liked her at first, he found her far too spoiled and always lifted her nose at Lumiere and the rest of the staff. But then one day she said something that he agreed with:

“I hate my father.”

They had been playing chess, he was losing, and as soon as those words were spontaneously snarled he lifted his head to stare at her. She still looked the same, her nose curled and lips pinched and didn’t look guilty in the least.

“You’re allowed to do that?” he had asked in a mystified voice, his blue eyes wide and almost desperate, “To hate your father?”

Yvonne furrowed her brow at him as if he was speaking a different language, “Who cares if you’re allowed to? You’re a prince; you can do whatever you want.”

“I want to hate my father,” he breathed, “…I _do_ hate my father.” And suddenly Yvonne didn’t seem so terrible.

She became someone he could confide in, someone to express his anger to. His mother was always sickly, and his servants would worry, so for many years Yvonne was his only confidant. And when his mother passed away and his father became more frequent in raising his hand it felt like the world had become divided, it was him and Yvonne against the rest of the world.

Her own father sent her away to Paris when she came of age, and he took great pleasure in knowing that he had terrified Yvonne’s father, to the point he wouldn’t want his child to marry _royalty_. That was for the best, as he had grown older his heart felt like it had been covered in ice and while he longed to surround himself with beauty he had no intention of tethering himself to any of it. His mother had been beautiful and she had died, his servants had had beautiful personalities and they turned their backs on him…no, he’d appreciate beauty but he wouldn’t let it ensnare him. Not even Yvonne’s beauty.

But then the Enchantress arrived.

And only a few short months after that Yvonne returned.

Like the rest of the townspeople she had forgotten him, but somehow she had stumbled upon the castle, maybe her locked away memories subconsciously leaving her. He saw her from his window, her dress a dot of deep emerald green amongst the ivory snow. The sight of her sent a twinge down his spine, his heart that was covered in thorns pulsed and it felt like it was reviving after years of frigid slumber.

Lumiere and Cogsworth had greeted her, recognizing her but of course acted like perfect strangers. And despite at first being startled by the sentient objects Yvonne quickly informed them she came from a prestigious family and if they tried to harm her an army would be sent to fetch her, and they would burn down this castle if need be. The staff was put off by her threats but watching from a distance he felt the stirrings of his old admiration, Yvonne had never been intimidated before.

But she still released a shriek when he stood before her.

He had the servants treat Yvonne as a guest and even though they clearly were not fond of tending to her they obeyed, after all-she could be the one.

Yvonne was comforted by having servants tend to her, and he stayed in the shadows as he tried to speak to her. He had an advantage having grown up with her and knowing what conversations would pique her interest.

She was only there for a few days when she invited him to sit with her at dinner, or rather, ordered him to. From beyond the lip of her glass goblet she glared at the open doorway of the dining room where his blue eyes glowed from the dark. “I won’t have you staring at me in the shadows; if you want to speak with me come sit down.”

He did, but never sat next to her, instead he sat across from her and let Yvonne talk to him. Despite his looks the woman still wanted to converse and it gave him a great sense of nostalgia, it was like when they were children.

“Are you not afraid of me?” he had asked one night.

Yvonne had given him a once over and he urged her to overpower the curse and _remember_ him, to help him escape from this beastly skin, to return to his old life.

Yvonne finally spoke, “You’ve given me no reason to be.”

His heart was scratched by the thorns as it nearly burst free.

.

Hope was quickening his step as he spoke more and more with Yvonne, he actually smiled at Chapeau on his way outside. He assured the coat rack the spell would soon be broken, and before even one petal from the Rose fell.

He found Yvonne examining the large bush of white roses. “Why does it always snow here?” she asked, back to him as the snow crunched beneath his feet.

“The same reason I look this way,” he answered, his voice a naturally low growl. He stayed just behind her, eyes moving from Yvonne to the roses and wondering if now was the time…

“Ah, of course,” she turned a green eye to him “The curse.”

He had told her about the curse only a few short days upon her arrival, though his staff insisted he keep the terms of the curse secret. False love would not break it. He nodded to her and stepped forward, reaching his paw out to pluck a rose from the icy branches. The thorns grazed his flesh but didn’t break skin-he had become so accustomed to barbs that only the ones on his heart could still hurt. But they would soon be gone. Yvonne looked at the rose between his fingers, “Amazing how well-preserved it is considering the weather.” She didn’t sound particularly impressed but that was just how she spoke. Though she was right, the rose was beautiful. He recalled Mrs. Potts stating it was a metaphor, that despite harsh surroundings one could still be kind. He had scoffed at her.

But now his blue eyes looked at Yvonne and the thorns in his chest scrapped his fast beating heart. He swallowed against the lump in his throat, “Yvonne, can I ask you something?”

She met his eyes, “What is it?”

“Do you think…would you ever be happy here?”

The question furrowed her brow, “Happy here?"

His paw stretched out, offering her the rose. “With me?”

She stared at the rose and he waited for her to take it, to agree to stay, to break this curse. Then she breathed out two words: “How foolish.”

He could hear his father’s mocking laughter like a slap to the face. Yvonne looked up at him, “How foolish of you to think a creature like yourself could earn my affections.” Her tone wasn’t mocking or disgusted, it was factual. And that somehow made it all worse.

Somehow his voice was passive, “I thought you liked me.”

She chuckled then, softly, as if he had told a joke, “I’d rather be dead.”

The thorns left his heart a shredded mess.

.

Yvonne had left the next day, and he still didn’t know why she stayed so long in the first place. He supposed she had simply enjoyed being waited on in a castle. The minute she had vanished into the forest a petal had fallen and the castle showed its first sign of crumbling. And when his servants had tried to comfort him he had returned the kindness with a snarl. It was far too late for their sympathy, and Yvonne never had any to begin with. He had thought of their time together as children and came to the realization that she had never been his friend.

He had been alone since the day his mother died.

“What are you doing?”

He jolted in place, turning away from the rose bush to see Belle standing before him. He eyes were curious and he took a step back, he didn’t want Belle to be near the roses that led to her father’s imprisonment. “Just thinking,” was his vague answer.

Belle still looked curious, “About what?”

“Does it matter?” his voice became testy and his expression turned shameful. “Sorry.”

But Belle was unbothered by his spontaneous irritation, “It’s okay.”

She tried to look over his shoulder and he stepped in front of her without much subtlety. “What are _you_ doing out here?”

Belle turned her eyes back to him, “I was in the library and found a book that can teach you Greek.” She smiled teasingly and it made her eyes shine, “Thought you could use it.”

The corners of his lips turned up, it was so much easier to smile these days. “Then I best learn quickly before you read all of the Greek literature before me.”

But he didn’t move and Belle tried to side-stepped him but he quickly copied her movement, keeping him between her and the bush. But Belle quickly caught on, “You’re trying to hide the roses from me.”

He looked away, his skin hot with awkwardness.

Belle let out a soft sigh and her expression was a mixture of exasperation and sympathy, “There’s no need for that. I won’t slap you because I saw these roses. To be perfectly honest I’m curious.” Moving swiftly she stepped around him and stood before the flowers, making him tense but he didn’t try to pull her away ( _that_ might have gotten him a slap).

Belle studied the flowers with an unreadable expression and he waited for her to say something along the lines of “These aren’t worth taking a man or his daughter’s freedom away.” But she was silent, until her eyes trailed down and she released a soft ‘oh.’

Stooping down she picked something off the ground, turning back to him he saw it was a plucked rose, and to his surprise he realized it was the same rose Maurice had picked and it sent a wave of shame over him.

Belle then shrugged in an almost apologetic manner, stepping forward, “Seemed a shame to just leave it in the snow.” As if as an afterthought she stretched her arm out and placed the rose in the lapel of his vest, patting the pocket before stepping back.

“That looks nice,” she smiled. “Now let’s go learn Greek.” She walked past him and toward the castle not noticing the awed gaze with which he looked at her.

His heart was once again pulsing madly, but the thorns had loosen their grip, and now it didn’t hurt as much.


	3. My Little Beloved

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post movie where Adam shares certain misgivings with Belle.

Belle rubbed her hand over her sleep-crusted eyes, releasing a yawn as she did so. Tucked into the bed of silk and feathers she looked around, the room was dark and the balcony shone off the night sky, the moon full. By the moon’s position it was around midnight. What had woken her up?

The bed shifted and she looked down to see Adam, hair and clothes tousled from sleep, leaning his head against her belly, said belly currently round. Belle smirked at him, “What are you doing?”

Adam’s blue eyes glowed in dimness as he looked up at her, “I’m trying to feel it kicking.”

Belle rolled her eyes but couldn’t be exasperated with him. When Belle had first gotten the morning sickness Adam had been fretfully worried, acting as her shadow and constantly insisting they call a doctor even though Belle continuously told him she was fine.

It was Mrs. Potts who recognized the symptoms and informed the young couple they were having a baby. Belle had felt ready to faint but then Adam wrapped his arms around her and spun her in the air, his joy contagious. They had been receiving many well-wishers since then. Maurice was currently making a crib that would play his grandchild lullabies to lull them to sleep. Garderobe was busying herself making outfits for the child (with the help of her new assistant Stanley) but since they had no idea if the child would be a boy or girl she made plenty for either and a part of Belle hoped she’d have both a boy and girl so the singer’s hard word wouldn’t go to waste. Mrs. Potts helped tend to Belle, knowing all about pregnancy having her own child and helping Adam’s mother when she was pregnant as well, and Chip was there to assure Belle he and the baby would be the best of friends.

People from the village had come with gifts too, her old friend Pere having found children books from his childhood and offering it to Belle. Even LeFou, Gaston’s former minion had arrived with an assortment of toys for the babe.

It had all left Belle in a grand mood despite the symptoms, (she would not miss the morning sickness or the constant tiredness) but she had noticed that as the days drew nearer and nearer for the delivery that Adam was starting to exude a nervous air.

And she saw it now as he rubbed his hand across her stomach, his eyes on her stomach but his gaze far away. She reached her hand out to run her fingers across his stubble-covered jaw line before lifting his chin to look at her.

“What’s wrong?”

He blinked and she saw him try to hide his anxiety, “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Belle gave him a pointed look that Maurice had told her she got from her mother, and it served well cowing Adam. “A husband shouldn’t lie to his wife, even if he is a king.” His lips parted with a soft exhale and he turned his eyes back to her belly, “I’m simply nervous.”

“As am I but it’s clearly not the same as you,” Belle replied. A sudden thought drove a nail into her head and she looked at him with a trace of fear, “You…you _do_ want this child, don’t you Adam?”

His expression was panicked as he turned back to her, taking her hand in his. “Of course I do!” His sincerity relaxed her but he kept talking, “I love you Belle, and I can’t imagine being happier anywhere else than right here with you. I’m happy you’re caring my child, I’m _beyond_ happy.”

“But,” she urged.

“But I worry I won’t be a good enough father.”

Ah. She understood now. Belle reached her arms out and pulled Adam closer so his head rested on her chest, she ran her fingers through his hair in a comforting manner. “You don’t have to worry Adam. You’ll be nothing like your own father.”

Just the mention of that man had Adam’s shoulders tensing reflexively and Belle felt a fierce wave of protectiveness. She wished she had been there in his childhood, even a child herself she would’ve found a way to protect him from that terrible man’s wrath.

“I was so like him not too long ago,” Adam breathed across her skin. “I worry something will happen and…I want our child to have better than I did.”

“Our child _will_. For one thing I’ll be around to make sure you both behave yourselves.” She felt his smile against her neck and she went on, “I can understand you’re nervous. And maybe once you were similar to him, but unlike him you _changed_. And I know you want only the best for our baby.” She shrugged, “We might make a few mistakes but just ask my father, all parents do. But we’re going to do our best.”

She pulled back to cup Adam’s face between her hands and smiled into his eyes, “Our child will love you just as much as you love him.”

“Or her.”

“Or her,” she giggled. “Our child will have what we didn’t. He or she will have _both_ parents, both parents who love each other and their child dearly.”

Adam returned her smile and stretched his neck to out to kiss her lips, the worry that had been gnawing on him having finally vanished.

.

**22 years earlier**

Plumette and Cadenza leaned against the wall of the hallway, watching Lumiere and Cogsworth pace back and forth, nearly knocking into each other more than once.

“They are going to wear the stone floor down,” Cadenza smirked and the maid giggled.

The four servants stood outside the door of the queen’s bedroom where she was bringing her son into the world. The queen had her two childhood friends, Mrs. Potts and Garderobe to help her through it along with the midwife. The only person who should be in the room was the king. But he was locked in his office and had shown no interest when he was told his wife was going into labor.

The fact had irritated the servants thought it didn’t surprise them. When the king and queen had first married they had been young and madly in love, but the life of a king had apparently taken it’s toll and he rarely spent anytime with his wife anymore and odds are he would treat his son similarly, especially if he had tutors to teach him how to be royalty.

There was a painful cry and Lumiere nearly jumped out of his skin. “Is she alright!?” he was starting to hyperventilate. “Do we need to call the doctor? Do we need to call two?”

“Don’t be stupid, Lumiere!” Cogsworth snapped at his friend.

“I’m not stupid!” Lumiere shot back, then like a temperamental child added, “ _You’re_ stupid!”

The queen let out another cry of pain and both men yelped. Plumette, knowing Cadenza was too amused to do anything, stepped forward to calm them. “Boys, boys, her majesty is perfectly-”

“What if there’s blood everywhere?!” Lumiere had turned as pale as a ghost. “Our queen _needs_ that blood! But now it all over the bed and clothes…” Lumiere trailed off, looking ready to be sick. Plumette sighed.

Cadenza laughed at the butler’s distress, “Come now, you’re both acting like spastic monkeys. Be calm.”

Cogsworth leered in the musician’s face, “I _am_ calm!” He grabbed Cadenza’s shoulders and started to roughly shake him, “I am the majordomo and I am _completely calm_!”

“I-can-tell!” Cadenza stuttered with each shake.

Plumette looked between the two men and Lumiere who looked ready to faint on the floor. “Cogsworth let Cadenza go.” She hurried to her lover and threw his arm around her, “Lumiere please, darling. You have to get used to the miracle of childbirth.” She wouldn’t say it out loud but she planned on this man helping her create their own little miracles.

But another scream and Lumiere winced, “That doesn’t sound like a miracle.”

Meanwhile Cadenza violently pulled himself out of Cogsworth hysterical grip, “It’s not even your child that’s being born in there.”

Lumiere glared at Cadenza while Cogsworth’s arms shook, now having nothing to grab but air. “We’ll be _like_ his parents! We’ll have to help raise him.”

Plumette smiled at Lumiere, “Hopefully he isn’t as eccentric as you two.” She smiled when she saw a familiar face walking toward them, a tray of herbal tea in hand. “Maybe he’ll be more like Chapeau, he’s always so calm.”

The newcomer arched an eyebrow at them but didn’t reply to Plumette’s words; then again none of them had ever heard the man speak. They assumed he was mute but never had the courage to bluntly ask.

Not acknowledging the hysteria going on in the hallway Chapeau walked past them and slipped into the queen’s bedroom without even a knock.

“DON’T BARGE IN CHAPEAU!!!” Lumiere and Cogsworth hissed in unison. But the man didn’t pay them any heed, shutting the door behind them.

The four watched the closed door for a moment before Cadenza spoke up, “Should-are we allowed to go in yet?”

Plumette was about to answer but was cut off by another raw cry from the queen, this one the loudest and she could tell it physically pained Lumiere and Cogsworth that they could not help her through this time.

Then everything went quiet for several seconds, and then there was the cry of a babe. Plumette broke into a wide smile, “Now we can.”

Inside the bedroom the midwife, Mrs. Potts and Chapeau were cleaning up the queen, Garderobe too busy sobbing in joy to assist.

The new mother didn’t seem to notice the four new visitors her eyes on a crying child bundled in a blanket, the faint shine of fair hair on his small head. Tears were filling the queen’s eyes and her smile was entranced and full of everlasting love.

Garderobe, seeing her husband, hurried over to him, overcome with emotion she kissed him and the two hugged, turning their smiles to the newborn prince. Plumette, also overcome, linked her arm with Lumiere’s only to realize his shoulders were shaking. She looked to him and Cogsworth and saw the two men were doing all they could to not cry as well and were failing miserably. She bit her lip to keep from laughing.

The queen finally smiled up at her servants and friends, blue eyes glittering. “Everyone, I have someone very important for you to meet.” She held up her child who had calmed down and was looking at this new world with wide-eyed innocence only an infant could have. “This is Adam.”

The servants, minus the midwife and Mrs. Potts, bowed to the baby who only cooed in return. The queen held her son to her face, pressing their foreheads together as she continued to smile and cry. “Adam, my little prince, I am going to make sure you flourish in this life my little beloved.”

Plumette took note that the queen didn’t ask for the king’s appearance. And she also took note that maybe…that was for the best.


End file.
